The Handy Painkiller

By Lynn Ockersz

Cricket, as usual, is going to his rescue…

This our denizen of the Nodding Land,

Now staggering under a multiple crises,

With the cry for Bread topping his agonies,

Which his rulers meet with cooing noises,

But cricket, he finds, is an ideal palliative,

For, some feel good over a mammoth total,

Notched by his side in blood-warming rhythm,

Seems to deliver him from his burdens,

And this would be for his deft-handed masters,

A reason for raucuous grand-standing,

For, cricket is for them is a timely distraction,

That could keep mobs away from their mansions.